Eighty Proof
by Rebellwithoutacause
Summary: He was pretty sure nobody had ever touched him like this. The last time someone had hugged him…he was pretty sure his ma had still been alive. This was all softness, warmth, and stability. Beneath the cloud of smoke and whiskey's sour tang he could smell her, strawberries, honeysuckles, and clean cotton. AU Bethyl oneshot minus the ZA


_**So, obviously I've been struggling with writer's block, and I haven't posted anything to Wolfsong in quite some time. I'm so sorry for that guys. I had the idea for this little oneshot running around in my head and I figured it might help get me at least writing again in some capacity. First time at writing TWD without the ZA aspect of the universe, so hopefully it went alright. Reviews are love and mana from heaven. Hope you enjoy!  
**_

_**Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own the Walking Dead. **_

* * *

He'd had a clear view of the door from his corner seat at the bar and he'd seen her walk in with a step that was somewhere between absolutely terrified and stubbornly determined.

This was place was a dive and never mind someone like her should never set foot inside this den of debauched men and looser women than even Merle would have settled for. What the hell was a little scrap like her doing here? One glance at her face shouted _jailbait! _and yet nobody stopped her. She walked straight up to the bar and took a seat one stool away from him, clicking a little plastic card on the surface of the less than clean bar.

_Fake _his well practiced mind told him as he glanced at her while he exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. He had a mostly empty shot glass next to his elbow that was propping up the hand with his cigarette, and it was abundantly clear by the way she was fidgeting and nervously glancing down and then up again that the ID in her hands wasn't real. He smirked a little to himself. Jailbait didn't mean he couldn't amuse himself. Or try and talk some sense into her.

"Stop squirming," he muttered her way with another exhale of smoke. "Look like you got a snake crawling up your spine."

"Excuse me?"

Her gaze snapped on him and it was a little bit like having been sucker punched. Damn she had a mean look, her blue eyes like the bolts on his crossbow, stabbing straight at him. Her tussled blonde hair was pulled into a messy half knot at the back of her head, many of its tendrils loose and down around her neck and shoulders. Her pale skin was way to clean for this dive and for some reason he found himself hoping nothing smeared it.

"You keep fidgeting like that, they're gonna know you ain't supposed to be here." He tapped the ash off his cigarette into a tray and eyed her with a knowing look.

"I'm twenty one," she snapped, turning away from him.

"Sure ya are. And I'm the President," he drawled. He chuckled despite the stabbing look she delivered his way. She had spunk, this little girl.

The bar tender hadn't quite taken notice of them yet. One of the benefits, or annoyances, of sitting at the edge of the bar. It'd be a benefit for her. It was darker over here, not quite as easy to see she didn't belong here.

"What'll ya have?" he asked as he sat up a little straighter, intent on flagging down the bar tender and making short work of things before the girl got thrown out.

"I didn't ask you to buy me a drink," she muttered, not really looking at him, instead letting her eyes scan the rows of bottles behind the bar. He could see flickers of recognition but no wanting, no decision.

"Damn, you are greener than I thought. Ya ever drank before little miss?" he asked her, keeping his voice low as he did so.

"Yes, I have!" she barked, her brows furrowing as she gritted her teeth at him, her aggravation steadily rising. She got even cuter when she was mad, damn. He told his rapidly warming blood to take a hike and instead took a sip of the whiskey in his glass.

"Liar," he said coolly.

"I'll thank you not to insult me. You don't even know me," she sneered at him, turning away.

He chuckled and drained the rest of his glass away, breathing through the burn before turning towards her, leaning his elbows on the bar to get her attention.

"Girl, get this straight. If you really had ever drank before, seriously drank, not sneaking a sip or two of your parents liquor when they said you could, you'd never turn down free booze. Now come on, what do you want?"

She narrowed her eyes at him again but the expression loosened after a minute or two. It seemed like she was appraising him with her eyes. It was an uncomfortable situation, women usually didn't pay him much mind, and he was just fine with that, but she was looking at him hard, as if trying to pry him apart.

"Whatever you're having," she answered at last.

He snorted and picked up his shot glass. "Ya may regret that, girl."

"My name is Beth," she told him coolly, still eyeing him, but more out of the side of her eye now.

"Daryl," he offered. He didn't figure last names were needed, but apparently she thought otherwise.

"Greene," she countered.

"Fits," he said before he could stop himself. She looked like she might reach over and slap him across the face but settled for stabbing at him with her eyes again.

"Dixon," he continued by way of a peace offering.

"Fits," she said as cool as it would ever get in the South at the height of summer.

"Is that right?" he asked. Just then the bar tender wandered over and Daryl raised his glass in indication. "One for her too." He nodded towards Beth, rolling the name in his mind, deciding it really did fit her nicely.

Beth sat up straight and stilled her fidgeting before she leaned forward a little and slid the ID across the bar towards the tender. He glanced at it for a second and then back at her, shrugged, and handed it back. He turned to reach for the whiskey bottle and Beth turned back to him, smirking practically from ear to ear.

"See. I'm twenty one."

He snorted at the absurdity of it all. He waited until they had their shots in front of them before he spoke.

"Let me enlighten you, Beth. Having the top two buttons of your shirt undone and leaning over like that will make any man want to get you drunk. One of your girlfriends at school teach ya that before sending you out to get trashed for the first time?"

She glared at him again even as her fingers wrapped around the shot glass. "You're freaking annoying," she muttered, glaring at him again before giving the drink in her hand a sniff. He could tell she disliked it but he hid his amusement.

"Shoot straight, Beth," he said, picking up his glass and raising it towards her. It was with only a small hesitation that she raised hers and clicked it against his before they tossed their shots back.

At this point, both in the night, and in his drinking career, his mouth and throat were pretty much armor plated. The burn barely phased him, but her, soft and pink and tender, he could see it was digging in with the force of a pit-bull's bite and not letting go. She winced hard, squeezing the edge of the bar tightly, breathing like someone might have hit her in the back of the head.

"Weren't expecting that were ya?" he asked casually.

She glared at him for a second, still unable to speak, but she did eventually get her breath back. "No. I wasn't. That is probably the worst thing I've ever tasted, ever."

He chuckled. "Your girlfriends won't tell ya that. Shots don't ever taste good girl. Just take less time to get ya drunk."

"Are you drunk?" she asked him boldly, eyeing him again with that look like she was prying him open to see what was underneath his skin. He pulled another cigarette out of his pack and lit it, taking a deep drag before answering.

"Nah. Not yet. Probably won't be at this rate."

"Why not?" she asked him. The edge was dropping out of her voice, her blue eyes growing a little warmer.

He exhaled, blowing smoke out of his nose and mouth, swarming her with it, but she didn't seem to mind. "Cause I know better, girl."

"How come? You get a DUI before or something?" she questioned.

He could feel himself turning to stone at that. He gritted his teeth and sat up straighter but his back was still against the wall of the bar. "That's what ya think of me? Ya don't even know me."

She seemed to fold in on herself a little, ducking her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…I just…my dad used to drink a lot. He got pulled by the cops more than once."

"So why ya in here if ya know better?" he muttered, anger still simmering in his veins. He was eyeballing the whiskey bottle in the corner of his peripheral vision but his still halfway sober brain told him to relax. She was just some girl who saw a redneck asshole at the corner of the bar. What else would she suspect of him? More alcohol wouldn't help the situation. He knew that one. She did look sorry at any rate.

"Tired of my family thinking I'm a kid. I'm not. I haven't been a kid since my mom died." She looked down at the empty shot between her fingers and then clicked it against the wood, catching eye contact with the bar tender.

"Another?" he asked. Beth nodded but Daryl shook his head.

"Still on my tab," he told the tender.

Beth twisted to look at him as the bartender refilled her shot glass and handed it back to her.

"What was that for?"

He shrugged somewhat uncomfortably. "Sorry about your ma," he said very quietly.

She nodded and made to throw the shot down her throat but he shook his head. "Just sip it. Burns less. Lasts longer."

Wonder of wonders, she listened.

* * *

Somehow, they fell into a weird routine. Once a week he'd be at the bar, and once a week, she'd walk in about an hour after him. They kept their places, he stayed at the corner, she stayed one seat away from him. He would buy her drinks and she would talk, getting a goofy, drunk smile on her face after the second shot or so. She never ordered anything else, and he never drank with her beyond that first welcome back shot. For whatever reason (if he had to answer it on a test he'd say it was the alcohol) she would use him as some sort of silent therapist, rambling on and on about her life, her dad, her friends, her boyfriend, her brother, her dead mom, her older sister. He knew more about her family than he did about probably anybody else's. He never had to ask questions with her. She was never guarded, never shy. He'd tease her a little, just to see those icy daggers come flying at him, but it didn't take her long to learn that it was a form of play.

He grew to almost crave those once a week meetings. Seeing her was becoming like a drug. Every time he saw her come in, his blood turned warm and a small smile twitched with his lips. He'd cut her off in time to be able to drive home safely in her little beater car out in the dusty parking lot. She trusted him to know her limits even better than she did. It was such a bizarre situation, but if he had to define it, he'd say he was actually _friends _with this little scrap of a girl. She was smarter than she looked, and once he'd mistaken her youth for innocence and naivety.

"Ya ought to be careful, Beth," he told her as she set down her fourth shot of the evening.

"Careful of what?" she asked, that big smile on her face, her eyes a little glassy. She'd worn very snug jeans tonight. It did nothing but help her womanly shape, and he'd been noticing that other men at the bar were eyeing her.

"Don't attract attention," he muttered as he exhaled another lungful of smoke.

She snorted in disbelief at him. "What attention? The only one I ever talk to in here is you."

"And it ought to stay that way," he said, just shy of a growl. "Them other guys, they ain't like me."

She lost the grin and glared at him coldly. "No, they ain't," she agreed.

"What's that's supposed to mean?" he asked, annoyed that she was being like this.

"It means I know what men want," she growled at him, narrowing her eyes. "I know they look at me and see a drunk girl who's too stupid and too wasted to avoid getting pulled into a car or into a bathroom. Why do you think I sit here and don't talk to them and I only talk to you? Cause I'm not dumb, Daryl. I know them, and I know you."

He wouldn't look at her directly, anger simmering in his veins for a reason he couldn't understand. "I ain't no prince charming, Beth. I ain't gonna get my ass thrown into jail for slugging some asshole that you egg on."

She tried to leave early that night. She paid her tab, slid off her stool, and started marching towards the door, her hips swishing in those tight jeans. He had already made to follow her to slow her down in the parking lot when another man from the end of the bar came towards her.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked, all but ripping her clothes off with his teeth.

Beth turned towards the man and opened her mouth to reply but Daryl cut between them.

"She's going home," he growled. "Now get lost."

"With you?" the man snorted in disbelief. "Come on. I seen you with her. Ya never get closer than three feet. Now she's been looking my way all night, let me talk to the pretty lady."

The man took a step forward and Daryl thrust his hand out, putting a stop to his advance against his chest. "Back off, man." Behind him he could feel Beth inching closer towards his back, as though trying to disappear in his shadow. Mentally Daryl was rolling his eyes at the whole situation but he held his ground, staring the man in the eye with a ruthless warning look.

The stalemate continued until Daryl decided to break it. "Beth, go on outside," he told her. "I'll be there in a minute."

For once she listened and hurried out the door while he kept his eyes fixed on the stranger. As soon as she was gone Daryl took his hand off the man's chest and drew himself up to his full height, his voice low and smoking with anger.

"If I ever catch you looking at her again, it won't go so well for you, ya got that?"

"Screw off, you don't own her, I could beat your ass from here to the Mason Dixon line, boy." A lascivious leer twisted over the man's features as he looked over Daryl's shoulder towards the door Beth had walked out of.

Anger riled inside Daryl's veins, the whiskey he'd drunk not worn off enough, but even more than that, the thought of the man getting anywhere near Beth drove any and all sense he might have had away. "I am the Dixon line, _boy." _With one almighty swing like Zeus throwing a bolt of lightening, Daryl drove his fist into the man's jaw, sending him swinging around in a complete three sixty before collapsing into an unconscious heap on the bar floor. Daryl cleared his mouth of the taste of ash from his cigarettes, spitting the taste free near the man's snoring skull before turning on his heel and leaving.

Beth was outside leaning up against the hood of her little beater car, her arms crossed over her chest, her booted foot digging into the loose pebbly rock that coated the surface of the parking lot. She immediately looked him over and her eyes lit upon the slight scrape on his knuckles and her blue eyes seemed to grow even brighter than before.

"Thought you said you weren't prince charming," she said at last.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't." He could have gone for another drink but he instinctively knew the night was over, at least for the two of them.

"Looks like it from where I'm standing," she told him, digging into her pocket for her keys.

He shrugged again, not wanting to meet her eyes for some reason. "Be careful," he told her.

Her hand was on the door of the car but as he turned away he heard the crunch of boots on gravel. He turned back to find her right in front of him. Unbidden she thrust herself forward, burrowing her cheek into the lower part of his chest, her arms wrapping around his midsection as she pulled herself tight into him.

Immediately he stiffened. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. In fact…he was pretty sure nobody had ever touched him like this. Not as an adult. The last time someone had hugged him…he was pretty sure his ma had still been alive. Sure, Merle would grab him, snagging him on the nape of the neck or shoulders, pulling him along like an insolent hound dog but this was a million miles away from that. This was all softness, warmth, and stability. Beneath the cloud of smoke and whiskey's sour tang he could smell _her, _strawberries, honeysuckles, and clean cotton. He shivered at the contact, damn near quivering at the sensation.

"Beth." Her name came out half choked and he could have cursed himself. He had meant to say more, to tell her to let go of him, and yet…he didn't. The realization kicked him in the back of the skull like a mean horse's hoof.

He didn't want her to let go.

He couldn't touch her back; he couldn't bring himself to do it. He doubted there was enough whiskey in the whole state of Georgia to get him drunk enough to reach towards her, but this was ok too. She held onto him like that for a few more moments before letting go and looking up at him with a soft smile, those blue eyes as warm as heat shimmers on the pavement in July.

"I hate goodbyes," she said softly. "So I'll see you later, ok?"

He nodded and her lips quirked into that little all knowing smirk before she turned on her heel and damn near skipped to her car.

* * *

"Where ya been dissapearin' too lately little brother?" Merle drawled as Daryl shrugged into his angel wing vest, ready to head for the bar.

"What does it matter Merle, now move, I gotta go," he said, reaching for the keys to his truck. He'd of liked to take the bike but it wasn't worth the hassle of asking Merle.

Merle was lounging across the doorway of the house they shared, a bottle of Jack in one hand, his shoulder butted up against the doorframe, preventing Daryl from leaving. He had that mean sort of look to him tonight; the one that said this wasn't going to go quietly. Self-conscious embarrassment began to creep into the back of Daryl's neck, stinging like a sunburn. He did not, could not, if at all possible _would not _explain to his brother about how for the past two months he'd been going to meet Beth at the bar, mostly just to listen to her talk and to see those crystal blue eyes look at him with more affection than anyone had ever shown him in his whole life. Merle would never let him hear the end of it, and worse, he'd want to get a hold of Beth himself, and Daryl, for more reasons than he felt like dissecting at the moment, would never let that happen.

"Feels like I barely see ya anymore, baby brother, now come on, where ya headed. I could use a good night out on the town." A twisted leer slid across Merle's face and Daryl could feel his patience waning.

"Down the road to the bar, alright, now would you get out of my way?" he growled.

Merle's brow furrowed. "We got liquor here little brother if ya wanna drink." He held up the bottle of Jack and swished it in front of Daryl's eyes. He studied Daryl's face for a while and as he did, a sinister little grin twisted across his mouth.

"Well would you look at that, Daryl's got someone waiting for him doesn't he?" An icy sort of gleam lit up Merle's pale eyes as Daryl squirmed underneath the gaze, trying to get around his brother but Merle wouldn't budge.

"He does doesn't he, well I'll be God damned." Merle howled with amusement as Daryl's agitation only skyrocketed. He was about to shove his way past Merle to head outside but Merle blocked his path with a hand on his shoulder that turned into an arm around his neck, hauling him back into the house by several paces before Daryl was able to get out from under his grip. All the while Merle laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Would you shut the hell up, Jesus Christ, wake every damn corpse from here to Atlanta!" Daryl barked, about a hair's breath away from smacking his brother just to silence his raucous amusement.

Merle, with a significant amount of difficulty, managed to mostly stifle his laughter. "Aw don't be like that baby brother. Come on, I wanna meet the lady, see what cheap slut you managed to be able to afford. I can't believe it, baby brother finally grew a pair and said something to a woman. Could almost shed a tear with pride." The lascivious grin on his face said anything but and Daryl's anger now was truly pricked.

"You stay away from her," he growled with a warning.

"Ooh, she got you a little feisty hm? Now I really have to see her. Come on little brother, don't wanna keep your lady waiting."

With all the reluctance of a bear coming out of hibernation, Daryl drove the truck towards the bar, Merle riding shot gun, still swigging from the bottle of Jack every so often. Ordinarily Daryl was able to put up with his brother's jibes in silence, but this was _Beth. _For some reason he felt the need to say something, to try and intervene before shit inevitably hit the fan.

"Merle just…put that shit away for a minute and listen for once in your miserable life," Daryl growled as Merle all but drained the rest of the Jack dry.

Merle glanced over at him casually as he leaned up against the door of the truck. "I'm all ears little brother, no need to go getting your panties in a twist."

"Just…she's not what you think alright? So just shut your mouth around her. Don't make any of your sick jokes. Just leave me and her be, alright?"

Merle rolled his eyes and lifted the bottle to his mouth again. "Whatever you say little brother."

True to form Beth wasn't at the bar by the time they got there. Daryl took his seat at the corner and to his aggravation, Merle took the stool Beth would usually sit on. He said nothing but his nerves betrayed him when he ordered a double shot of whiskey, hoping the liquor would quiet him down. He downed the whole thing as soon as it reached his fingertips, hoping it would settle the burn in his stomach, but like always, it increased it. He half considered just walking out and waiting in the parking lot to head Beth off and warn her to just go on home, but Merle's icy gaze held him chained to the spot.

He saw her walk in, as he always did, and she looked just as good as ever. She'd done something with her hair so a few pieces of it were braided and linked in the back of her head, trailing down elegantly while the rest of her mane was loose against her shoulders. She wore a pretty little dress that cut off just a few inches above her knees and of all things, Converse shoes on her feet. She didn't belong here, and every step she took towards him made his gut squirm, even though her eyes were warm and clearly happy to see him.

"Hi Daryl," she said happily, confidently striding up to the bar and hopping up onto the stool right next to him, paying no mind to Merle.

"So this is her?" Merle immediately swiveled on his seat and raked his eyes up and down Beth's body, wolf whistling loudly. "Hot damn baby brother."

"Merle, shut up," Daryl growled. "Beth, this is my brother, Merle," he muttered by way of introduction.

Beth twisted on her seat and stared the man down. She'd heard Daryl talk about him every so often, enough to gather their relationship was much more antagonistic than it was brotherly.

"I've heard about you," she said without flinching at his expression.

He chuckled coldly. "I ain't heard nothin' about you, and its not a wonder, baby brother must be tryin' to keep ya all to himself. That ain't fair, Daryl, ain't fair at all ya keep such a pretty girl a secret."

The instant Merle reached for her, Daryl sat up straighter, glaring viciously towards Merle. "Leave her be," he growled.

"So lemme ask you something, Daryl," Merle drawled as the bar tender gave them all shots of whiskey. "Ya closed the deal with her yet?"

For her part Beth didn't seem affronted, but Daryl's blood scorched inside his veins. He picked up his third shot and downed it in one go, the burn barely touching the anger rumbling through him.

"Merle, you say one more word to her, or about her, I'm drag you outside and make you regret it," he said with a deep scowl. "Just shut your fucking mouth for once."

Merle only chuckled and knocked back his shot with ease. "I'll take that as a no," he snickered. He turned towards Beth with another leering look. "I wouldn't wait forever for him girl, he ain't likely to ever close with ya. Cause he's an idiot and don't know what he's missing." Merle leaned closer towards Beth and she not very subtly leaned away, sliding as close to Daryl as she could get without falling off her stool.

"Don't talk like that about him. He's your brother," Beth said coldly.

"Oooh, look at that, Daryl's gotta get defended by his little bitch. I was wrong baby brother, you still ain't grown a pair. Probably never will at this rate."

The three shots of whiskey in his belly clouded his judgment. He slid off his stool, swung around, grabbed Merle by the nape of the neck and threw him to the floor with a harsh shove.

"I told you to shut the hell up!"

Merle was up on his feet before more than two or three seconds had passed. He swung a hard punch towards Daryl but his little brother dodged and rammed his shoulder into Merle's gut, shoving him with as much force as he could muster towards the door. Other frightened patrons scattered out of the way of the brawling men and dimly out of the corner of his eye Daryl saw Beth run for the door of the bar. Good. It was better she get the hell out of their way. They continued scuffling, hurling insults at each other, Merle landing a punch in Daryl's mouth, tearing open his lip while Daryl got a solid blow into Merle's jaw when the crack of a gunshot ripped through the air.

The two brothers broke apart, tumbling to the floor as they disentangled themselves from each other. They both loped outside to see where the shot had come from and Daryl was amazed to find that Beth was marching towards them both with pistol in her hand, still partly raised with the barrel towards the sky. She had an all but murderous look on her face, not looking at Daryl, instead fixing her gaze on Merle.

"Get out of here," she growled, her usually sweet voice full of venom.

"Now, now, put that thing away sweetheart, ya don't know what you're doing…" Merle started, but he stopped dead when Beth leveled the pistol straight at him.

"Get out of here," she warned again.

Merle shrugged and glanced at Daryl. "I'll see ya later baby brother. Have fun cleaning up the mess," he muttered before snatching the keys out of Daryl's hand and storming towards the truck and taking off down the road.

"Where the hell did you get a gun?" Daryl demanded as Beth lowered the pistol and put the safety back on.

"Dad," she answered simply. "When I started to drive by myself he said I should carry one just in case. I keep it in the car."

Daryl dabbed at the blood spilling down his chin from his busted lip, feeling it start to swell already. He didn't know whether he was ready for more of a fight or if he ought to take off for the woods and disappear for a couple days till this blew over. Merle would be waiting for him at home whenever he finally made it back, and it was guaranteed their little spat wouldn't be over.

"Smart," he said as he spat to clear his mouth of the taste of blood. "Never know what psychos you might run into down in places like this."

She glared at him as she set the gun back inside the car and then returned to face him. "Don't act like that. You are a lot of things Daryl Dixon, but a martyr isn't one of them." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him that stubborn mule look she always got when they disagreed about something but he so wasn't in the mood for it tonight.

"You don't know nothin' about me girl!" he barked at her, the liquor wrangling his tongue and good sense away from him. He brandished his arm towards her angrily. "You ain't no good for me no how, so why don't you go on and go home back to your boyfriend where you belong!"

"Daryl shut up, you're drunk!" she insisted although he thought he heard the tenor of sadness creep up into her voice.

"I ain't drunk enough," he growled low in his throat. "Ya wouldn't know nothin' about that though would ya? Cause I cut ya off before you ever get too hammered before you try actin' like some dumb college bitch and fucking the first thing you see that moves…"

He was going to say more, but the almighty crack of her palm smacking the side of his face cut the air like thunder and ripped all the air out of his lungs.

"Don't you say things like that to me!" Her chest was huffing as she lowered her hand but her blue eyes were still full of fire.

He was stunned into silence for a long minute. First the gun, now this. Christ on a cross, what else about this little scrap of a girl did he not know? Was the next thing going to be a roundhouse karate kick to the side of the head? It would only add to the uncomfortable trilling of bells inside his brain and complete this picture that didn't make any sense.

"If I don't know anything about you Daryl it's cause you won't tell me. And that's fine, I guess you don't have to if you don't want to, but I know you shouldn't let him talk to you like that. He's your brother for God's sake. If my dad _ever _caught my big brother saying things like that to me he'd…"

"Yeah well, your dad ain't mine and Merle's, that's for damn sure," he growled. There was a thousand words trying to slip through his teeth but he bit them back, unsure of what to say, what he wanted, or where to go, and so his silence held him in paralysis.

"I bet not," she said, softening her tone. "Listen, Daryl…don't let him, don't let any of them, treat you like that. You're better than that."

She tried to reach for him, the same as she had a few weeks ago but he shrugged away from her grip, walking a few steps past her aimlessly.

"Beth, ya don't know me, girl. Ya need to not come back here anymore, alright? Just go home, be a good girl like I know ya are and quit actin' like ya wanna know me or anything I do."

"Oh so you're a mind reader now, are you? You think you who I am or what I want?" Anger curled at the edges of her words as she came around to his front to force him to look into her eyes.

"I know I ain't good for you!" His voice raised more than he would have liked but it was too late now. "I know this…whatever the hell this is…it ain't right."

"Don't do this." Her voice had the tenor of fear to it. Why fear? What could she possibly be afraid of?

"What the hell do you want from me girl?"

"Don't push me away like I don't mean anything to you. If I didn't mean anything to you, you wouldn't keep coming here night after night. You wouldn't hit strangers who would hurt me. You wouldn't brawl with your brother when he's being an asshole over me. I mean something to you Daryl Dixon. So just…don't do this. Don't make me miss you." She was almost to tears now. His heart gave a weird throb of pain he'd never experienced before, at least not when it came to women, and not when it came to _her. _

Guilt.

"Look I know I'm not…I'm not my big sister alright? I'm not tough like she is, not like probably other girls you know that you don't tell me about. I'm not like them but…I'm still here aren't I? And they're not."

She stared at him with those big blue eyes, her hair turned silver by the moonlight, her skin practically glowing with it. She looked just like some angel that had fallen into this decrypt parking lot and was giving him the time of day and he just couldn't understand why.

"Beth, go home, girl. I'm not who ya think I am and I ain't good for ya. Go home. Don't come back here."

He stepped past her and intended to make the long trek back towards home. It'd be closer to dawn than midnight by the time he made it back but that didn't bother him. He'd spent a long time roaming around with nothing but himself to depend on. He'd be fine on his own, he always had been, and he was determined that next week when Friday night rolled around he wouldn't be back here. He couldn't keep perpetuating this. He resolved to miss her and drink enough on his own until he didn't miss her anymore and that would be the end of it.

Except he felt a swarm of warm skin and cotton material press against his back. She'd run towards him and grabbed him from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing him tight, refusing to let go even when he weakly struggled. To his credit (or hers as it may have been) he didn't fight that hard.

She didn't say anything and neither did he. He just stood there, feeling his resolve crumbling with every second that passed, knowing that this was a mistake, but not enough of it convinced him to make her let go. He hated himself for it, but he loved the way she made him feel. He loved how when she came walking into the bar and her eyes found his they would get warm and bright like the summer stars. He loved the sound of her voice, the way she'd sing along with any of the songs she knew that would play over the raspy speakers at the bar. The way she would sometimes tease him gently about the way he looked after her. He loved how innocent and clean she was and he wanted her to stay that way, and he'd had enough liquor tonight to admit he was frightened by the thought he might ruin that about her.

They both lost track of time, standing out there on the edge of the road, but when they saw headlights headed their way Beth let go and they wandered back to the bar parking lot, sitting on the hood of Beth's car, not quite looking at each other and not quite looking away.

"Merle never knows when to let up. He's just…he's on every drug known to man, Beth. And now that he knows about you, he'll hound me about it." He paused and sucked in a deep breath, intent on saying more, but all the words died in his throat when she disarmed him with her eyes.

"Does he own you, Daryl? Cause from where I'm standing, he ain't God. You don't have to do anything he says. And you don't have to let him brow beat you like that. It's wrong and you shouldn't let him do it, cause you're better than that."

He didn't quite resist her this time, instead he said nothing. Those words were like bits of hail bouncing against already frozen blacktop, but he enough eventually if he listened long enough…that black ice might melt and what she said would get through. He knew it because he could see the ice pick of her eyes drilling deep into him. And this time he didn't look away.

"Sides, if I were to go home and never come back here, you'd miss me."

She grinned her little cheeky grin at him and he didn't want to, but he found himself smiling ever so slightly back at her.

"How long you gonna be able to sneak out like this without getting caught? I don't really feel like runnin' from a whole pack of Greenes armed with guns."

The trill of her laughter was like water to his still inebriated brain. "I actually haven't been sneaking out," she said, fishing into her back pocket and pulling out her driver's license. She handed it to him and his eyes went wide.

"You are twenty one," he murmured quietly, handing it back to her.

"I told you so. I was just nervous that first time coming in here. I came in here the first time on a dare from my friends." She glanced over at him with a quiet smile that made his blood turn warm in an entirely different way than the whiskey. "I kept coming back for a different reason."

She reached her hand over and without hesitation, wrapped their fingers together in a close embrace. "I'm way more stubborn than you think I am, Daryl. I ain't going anywhere."

He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away. They eventually ended up laying back against the hood of the car, staring at the sky studded with just enough stars to make it too difficult to count them all, talking about nothing of consequence but that was ok by him because she never let go of his hand and he didn't try to pull away. He decided that he might as well enjoy the only bone that the universe might ever throw him. God knows he'd need it to get him through the days when he wouldn't see her, when he'd have to deal with Merle and all his shit, drifting around aimlessly like he was a ghost, not really living, just existing because he didn't have any other choice. She lent him some of her light, handing it out freely to him of all people when she could have given it to anybody. He was grateful, and that was enough to make him smile and hum along when she started to sing.


End file.
